


rebuilt (piece by piece)

by thisissirius



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Angst, Consent Issues, Dubious Consent, M/M, Protective Aaron, Support, dealing with assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 02:49:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10453278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisissirius/pseuds/thisissirius
Summary: “I’m sorry,” Robert says, in lieu of an answer. “I don’t want you to leave me."It sounds small, quiet, but Aaron can’t make his voice work, can’t do anything except stare at Robert’s face. “Robert, I need you to tell me. What’s the last thing you remember from that night?”Robert lifts on arm in the approximation of a shrug. “She took the whisky off me. Told me I’d had ‘nough. Told me I was drunk, too. Told her I wanted her, but I lied,” Robert says fast, words tripping over themselves. “I just wanted you, but then she told me I was drunk. Don’t remember much after that.”aaron deals with his betrayal and hurt, while his husband fails to deal with anything at all.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **please note;** i am a survivor of sexual assault. i am well aware this fic might upset some people, but i wrote this as an exploration of my own feelings about the lack of attention paid/the lack of acknowledgement that this could be construed as sexual assault/dubious consent.
> 
> * * *
> 
> so. 
> 
> these are my thoughts and feelings about the whole consent issue translated into fic. 
> 
> bear in mind that this fic is extremely cathartic for me and i am a huge robert stan. if you don't like robert, this is _definitely_ not the place for you and you're probably not going to want to stick around. 
> 
> otherwise, i hope this is everything those of you expecting it have actually been expecting!
> 
> they say it takes an army; thanks to lorna, mer, anna, jen and nikki for being great with beta duties, cheerleading, and just all around general great people <3
> 
> i had a lot of trouble with this towards the end so please, please let me know what you think <3
> 
> (some of the thoughts and actions of people in this fic are not my own.)

“I wanted to hurt you,” Robert says, words half-muffled against the pillow. His fingers clench around the bedsheets, a horrible smile on his face. “You told me I was useless, that Liv and I, we weren’t-“ Robert’s face twists into something close to self-loathing. “What kind of a dick does that make me, eh? You’re dealing with _that_ , and I’m trashing this place.”

It hurts to hear.

Aaron’s back is pressed to the wall, his legs bent in front of him. He can just see Robert’s face over the top of his left knee. It’s a physical barrier, though Aaron doesn’t know which one of them he’s trying to protect. “I could have told you. "

“But you _didn’t_ ,” Robert says, but he doesn’t sound accusatory as much as he does tired. Exhausted, Aaron thinks, looking at the horrible dark smudges under Robert’s eyes, the paleness of his face.

It doesn’t stop the ball of rage currently lodged in Aaron’s chest. His fists are clenched against his thighs to keep him from lashing out; he’s _trying_. “What could you have done?”

Robert snorts, rolls onto his back, starfishing across the bed. He’s drunk, _trashed_ , and it’s pissing Aaron off. “Nothing,” Robert says, with a horrible laugh. “Which is pretty much what I’ve been doing."

Aaron’s heart clenches painfully. His anger at Robert gives beneath the guilt, the worry. Robert’s fraying at the edges, shaking apart beneath the weight of everything he’s been carrying the last few weeks. It doesn’t make any of it easier to stomach, doesn’t absolve either of them of their responsibility for what’s happened. “Rob-“

“Why are you even here?” Robert asks, turning to face Aaron. His eyes are red, hazy, like he’s not even really in the room. It makes Aaron’s skin crawl. Robert’s not even going to _remember_ this tomorrow, so he doesn’t know why he’s still here, why he’s still trying to get conversation out of Robert. Robert, who’s frowning. “I said that to her, you know.”

Aaron bites back on the urge to say something nasty, just drops his head back against the wall, bites his bottom lip. “Did you.”

Robert ignores the tone of his voice, or maybe doesn’t hear it, just stares back at the ceiling, rests a hand in his hair, elbow knocking against the wooden headboard. “Don’t remember texting her.”

“What?”

Lifting his free hand, Robert waves a bottle of whisky, half full, and holds it up, like he’s contemplating drinking more of it. Aaron’s ready to stop him, when Robert drops it back on the bed next to him. “Had more than this last time. , wanted her to come over. Knew you’d hate me texting her, knew you’d me going anywhere near her. It felt like what I _wanted_.” Robert’s not even looking at Aaron anymore, hardly even acknowledging him. It twists the anger in Aaron’s chest, but Aaron can’t make himself say anything, lets Robert rant. “Thought I might as well be what everyone thinks I am. Not family material, am I, not a great husband? Can’t even help you when you’re doing drugs.”

“Robert,” Aaron starts, legs sliding out before him. He hears what Robert’s not saying; everything Robert wanted in his life was to love someone who loved him in return, and no matter what Aaron told him, he’d _heard_ that he wasn’t good enough.

“Thought why not call her, why not make myself feel something other than _hurt_.”

It hurts to hear, to acknowledge that Robert couldn’t _talk_ to him. Hypocritical, Aaron thinks, when he couldn’t even confide in Robert. He wonders if they’ll ever get it right, if they’ll ever actually talk something out instead of constantly ignoring things until they slam together with unimaginable consequences.

“Don’t remember much after that,” Robert says, voice low. He’s frowning up at the ceiling, and he’s got a clump of hair twisted in his hand, pulling so much it has to hurt. “Woke up the next morning naked in bed with her. It felt weird, you know? I felt – I left, went back ‘cause your mum was coming home.”

“Why did it feel weird?” Aaron says, something burning in his throat. His skin feels hot, and he can’t look away from Robert, from the hand in his hair, the frown on his face, the way he’s curling into himself.

“I woke up,” Robert says, fingers flexing in his fringe. “I felt – I felt wrong, threw up in the bathroom. I cheated on you,” Robert says slowly, turns to face Aaron but his eyes land somewhere on the carpet next to Aaron’s feet. “I woke up and hated myself. I didn’t mean to, I was just so angry and I couldn’t handle losing you and I-“

“Robert,” Aaron says slowly, mouth dry. He doesn’t know what to think, shifts until he’s on his knees.

“Don’t,” Robert says, eyes shut. After a long silence, Aaron unable to move, Robert’s breathing harsh in the eerie quiet of the room. Robert’s eyes are half-lidded, his hand lax in his hair.

“You can’t sleep here.”

“I’m sorry,” Robert says, in lieu of an answer. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

It sounds small, quiet, but Aaron can’t make his voice work, can’t do anything except stare at Robert’s face. “Robert, I need you to tell me. What’s the last thing you remember from that night?”

Robert lifts on arm in the approximation of a shrug. “She took the whisky off me. Told me I’d had ‘nough. Told me I was drunk, too. Told her I wanted her, but I lied,” Robert says fast, words tripping over themselves. “I just wanted _you_ , but then she told me I was drunk. Don’t remember much after that.”

Aaron rocks back on his heels, presses his forehead into the mattress beside Robert’s hand.

That’s the thing about unimaginable consequences.

They’re _unimaginable_.

 

 

 

 

Aaron spends the night in that room, back to the wall, watching Robert sleep. He’s unnaturally still, not the shifting warm mass he is when they share a bed. It’s weird, makes Aaron feel sick.

 _I don’t remember_.

The words rattle around inside of Aaron’s head, his chest tight every time he thinks about it for too long. He drops his forehead to his knees, breaths slow, tries to keep a hold on his emotions. He wants to lash out, wants to punch something, but he’s trying to be better. Isn’t that what he told Robert? What started this whole thing?

He remembers the look on Robert’s face, the mounting horror as Aaron told him why he’d done Spice in the first place, the terror of what he was facing. Aaron can’t focus on it for too long, feels the familiar thrum of fear under his skin when he thinks of _that_ cell, the look on Jason’s face. Robert’s face had just _fallen_ , but not before Aaron saw the guilt and fear.

Then there’d been Rebecca and Chas, Robert looking defeated, Aaron feeling defeated, betrayed, _angry_. _“I can’t stand to look at ya,_ ” he remembers snapping, watching Robert walk away, shoulders slumped.

Robert shifts, breaking the silence of the room.

Aaron stretches out, tries to get the blood flowing back in his limbs. The anger is still there, still threatening to overwhelm him when he thinks about Robert and Rebecca, here in this room. A place that’s supposed to be _theirs_ , somewhere they were going to start anew. Aaron can’t stop the disappointment settling in his stomach, can’t help feeling sick when he looks at Robert’s face, the lines of his body and thinks _Rebecca’s touched them_.

Especially not now, not after they said vows that were supposed to _matter_.

 _Not like you kept to yours_ , Aaron thinks bitterly, shrugs it off quickly. He wishes they weren’t like this, that they could just –

Robert makes a choked off sound, moves until he’s curled up, one hand shoved roughly under the pillow.

Aaron should leave. His mum’ll want him to, the unhappy curve to her mouth as she’d said, “I’m sorry love.”

Aaron _can’t_ leave. He loves Robert still, loves the bones of him, he and Liv the only things carrying Aaron through prison. Except. Not the _only_ thing.

Shifting onto his knees, Aaron rests his elbows on the bed, hand hovering over Robert’s head. He wants to touch, but something keeps him from doing it, keeps him from seeking what he wants.

 _I don’t remember_.

Aaron feels sick all over again, and this time it has nothing to do with what Robert did, but what he _didn’t_ do. This time, when he thinks about Robert and Rebecca, he can’t stand the thought of it because of what it means for _Robert_.

 _I don’t remember_.

Fists clenching against the sheets of the bed, Aaron presses his forehead to Robert’s shoulder. There’s something cold and vicious in the pit of his stomach, something desperate to lash out, to _hurt_.

Robert’s breath ruffles Aaron’s hair and despite his own reservations, Aaron reaches up, brushes Robert’s hair off his head.

“I’m sorry,” he says slowly, kisses Robert’s temple.

It’s not meant to be forgiveness. That will come in time, perhaps, if they both want it enough. This, though, this is something different. Aaron’s going to protect him, to make this _right_.

 

 

 

 

 

“Morning,” Aaron says, leaning against the doorjamb.

Robert’s in the kitchen, two empty mugs on the count in front of him. There’s coffee brewing in the pot next to the gap where the cooker is going to go, and Aaron’s grateful. He has a feeling he’s going to need coffee, or something stronger, for the conversation they’re about to have.

Stiffening, Robert doesn’t turn, but Aaron can see the moment his shoulders slump, the slow release of breath he lets out. “Morning.”

Aaron doesn’t know what to say. He wants to know more, wants Robert to confess when he’s aware of what he’s saying. “Do you remember last night?”

“No,” Robert says immediately, and at least that’s honest. “I woke up this morning and saw you on the floor. I didn’t want to wake you.”

Aaron pushes himself off the door frame and moves to stand next to Robert, leans his back to the counter. Robert’s clutching tightly at the mugs, knuckles white, and Aaron wonders what he’s thinking. He’s not saying anything, face flicking through shame and reluctance, like he’s ready to hear something he doesn’t want to.

Perhaps he is.

“I know you don’t remember, but you told me things last night,” Aaron tells him, keeping his voice low and steady. He’s trying to keep the anger that’s still thrumming under the surface at bay. Robert misreads emotions too easily and Aaron doesn’t want him to leave this conversation before he’s said what he needs to.

Robert drops his head to his chest. “I’ve been waiting.”

Aaron lets out a frustrated noise. “You don’t even know what I’m going to say yet.”

“Whatever I told you,” Robert starts, slowly.

“You told me you didn’t remember,” Aaron interrupts, because he needs to know. He believes it’s true, because Robert couldn’t have been lying, not last night, and there’s proof enough now; Robert’s eyes cloud over, and he nods quickly. Aaron takes a deep breath, pinches the bridge of his nose. He feels nausea rise in his stomach. “Robert, you know that’s not okay.”

There’s a pause, and when Aaron looks up, he can see Robert staring at a spot on the counter. His expression is hurt, _broken_ , and it makes something in Aaron snap. He wants to _hurt_ Rebecca. “I’m sorry,” Robert says, quickly, sounding as devastated as he looks.

“Why are you sorry?” Aaron turns, frowning at the death grip Robert has on the mugs. “Robert?”

“I cheated,” Robert says, finally looking up to meet Aaron’s eyes. “I didn’t – it’s not what I wanted, not really.”

“I’m not talking about that,” Aaron tells him, pressing, he needs Robert to understand. “We’ll talk about that when we’re calmer, when it’s not _right there_. Robert, I’m talking about what Rebecca did.”

Robert frowns, confused. “She didn’t do anything.”

Aaron raises an eyebrow. “She didn’t have sex with you when you were drunk?”

The grip Robert has on the mugs is starting to concern Aaron; his knuckles are white, his fingers trembling around the porcelain. Robert swallows. “Yeah, but it wasn’t anything I wasn’t asking for.”

“Robert,” Aaron says, slowly, calmly. He doesn’t feel as calm inside. It’s a raging inferno and he doesn’t know what to do with it. “Do you remember anything from that night?”

“That I text her,” Robert says, echoing his words the night before. “Then she arrived and she told me I was drunk, that I should stop.”

“Exactly,” Aaron tells him. Robert’s hands, facial expressions and body language are screaming that something is wrong, but the words he’s saying aren’t matching up at all. “Robert, she had sex with you while you had no idea what you were doing.”

It hits Robert then, Aaron thinks, because Robert’s eyes widen, his breath hitches. Aaron leans across, unwraps Robert’s fingers from the mugs. He wants to tell Robert that he needs to talk about this, that it’s not just going to go away, but as soon as he pulls Robert’s hands away, Robert wrenches them out of Aaron’s grip and takes a step back.

“It’s not like that,” Robert says, angry, every line of his body screaming at Aaron to leave him alone. “I _cheated_ on you. Nothing less, nothing more. That’s all it is!”

Aaron opens his mouth to refute it, to say anything that will keep Robert in the room, but he’s already storming past Aaron, grabbing his keys from the table in the middle of the room.

The Mill is silent around him, but Aaron’s head is a raging mess of emotion and he knows exactly who can calm the storm 

Rebecca.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron finds Rebecca at Home Farm, thankfully alone.

When she pulls open the door, smile on her face like she’s pleased to see him, it takes all of Aaron’s self-control not to punch her. He’s not that person, not anymore. “Aaron,” she says. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you so soon.”

“I wanted to talk,” Aaron says, cutting to the chase. He doesn’t want to be any longer than he has to be, wants to be talking to her even less.

Rebecca looks surprised but gestures for him to come in. The last time he was here, he thinks, he and Robert stood in this very hall, vicious and angry. He wants to be past that, wants to be _better_.

“What’s he said?” Rebecca asks, sitting on the edge of the couch.

Aaron leans his hip against the high-backed chair. He doesn’t answer straight away, needs to get this right, needs this for Robert as much as for himself. “He told me everything.”

Rebecca’s mouth quirks up. “I didn’t think you’d be the type to ask for that sort of information.”

“He was drunk,” Aaron says, to see if it gets a reaction.

Perhaps she’s deliberately misreading him, but Rebecca snorts, leans back in the chair. “He seems to be making a habit of that lately.”

It makes Aaron’s anger spike, and he grips the chair tighter. He thinks of Robert’s expression, his insistence that it was cheating, and needs to know for sure if what he’s seeing all over Robert’s reluctance is about something deeper, and not just whether or not he’s cheated on Aaron.

“So he was drunk that night, then?”

“He text me, asked me to come over,” Rebecca says, clasping her hands together on her knees. “He lied to me.”

Aaron raises an eyebrow. “About what?”

“He told me you were his ex-husband,” Rebecca tells him, nothing in her expression shifting even as Aaron winces.

It hurts to hear, that Robert would take _that_ from Aaron’s words, but he knows Robert better than that, _knows_ he takes everything to heart. Misreading, mishearing, always assuming everyone’s thinking the worst. _Probably because they usually are_ , Aaron thinks.

“Right,” Aaron says, teeth clenched, staring at the sofa instead of her face. “And you believed him?”

Rebecca shrugs. “He sounded sincere.”

 _He was drunk_ , Aaron wants to yell. Instead, he rubs a finger down his nose. “So you had sex with him?”

“He was coming on to me,” Rebecca says again, insisting, looking apologetic and contrite. “Honestly, Aaron, I never would have if I’d known it wasn’t over. He _lied_.”

Like they’re friends, like Aaron’s going to accept her explanation and accept it because it’s Robert, and Robert lies without good cause. Aaron knows they’ve been here before, that he’s said as much while she’s in the room, and he wishes he never had, wishes he’d never given her cause to know he felt that way.  

Rebecca leans forward, resting her arms against her knees. She makes a face, looks amused. “It wasn’t as good as I remember, though.”

Something cold shivers up Aaron’s spine. He stares at her, comes the closest he has so far to giving up on not punching her. “Really?”

Whether she doesn’t notice his anger, or puts it down to something else, Rebecca shrugs, gives him a smile that makes Aaron feel sick.

“He’s usually pretty enthusiastic,” Aaron says, trying to keep his voice light. He doesn’t think he manages it, from the look on Rebecca’s face. “Prefers to take control. Was it like that?”

“Aaron.” Rebecca frowns, confused. “I’m not going to-“

“How much had he had to drink?” Aaron asks, clutching the back of the chair tight, knuckles white under the pressure.

There’s something uncomfortable on Rebecca’s face. “He’d had a lot of whisky,” she admits, “but he came on to me!”

Aaron doesn’t know what to do with the rage and guilt, the _sickness_ in his stomach. He felt this way before, with Gordon, but this is different, this makes his heart hurt. “He was drunk, Rebecca.” His voice sounds odd to his own ears, the rage curling around every word, every syllable. “You assaulted my husband when he was too drunk to know what he was agreeing to.”

“That’s not what it was,” Rebecca protests. “Aaron, I would never-“

“But you _did_ ,” Aaron presses, can see she has no idea what she’s done. “As soon as you realised he was drunk, you should have made sure he was safe and left him alone.”

“He wanted me,” Rebecca says, defensive, and Aaron has to push himself away from the chair, run a hand over his face. “He started telling me I was all he ever wanted. Told me we could be together.”

It hurts, Aaron can’t pretend it doesn’t, but he knows Robert better than he knows himself. He knows every inch, every worry, every _fear_. How many times did Robert throw himself at Aaron when he was angry, or afraid, or lonely? How many times has Robert used sex as a means of control when he has none?

“He doesn’t remember any of that,” Aaron tells her, watches her face fall. He thinks he could feel sorry for her if he wasn’t so concerned about Robert. “He needed you to be a friend. You were the sober one,” Aaron adds, feels the exhaustion seep into him, makes him want to sit down and give up but he _can’t_. “if you were his friend, you’d have _stopped_ him and made him safe.”

“He told me he wanted me,” Rebecca says again. It sounds weak, a last attempt maybe, to convince herself. She looks horrified, ashamed, but Aaron can’t bring himself to care.

“He came onto me once, when I stopped the affair the first time and when his marriage to Chrissie was on the rocks,” Aaron tells her, slowly, cooling his anger. He needs her to _realise_ , not be defensive. “He’d drunk half a bottle then, too. Came onto me in the backroom of the pub. I knew he’d hate himself for it in the morning, but I also knew he had no idea what he was doing. I gave him water, told him _no_ and made sure he was safe.”

Rebecca says nothing, looks down at the floor. She looks small, sad. “Aaron-“

“You should have said no,” Aaron says. He can’t be here anymore, can’t look at her. He says nothing as he leaves the room, but as he pulls open the front door, he thinks he can hear her crying.

 

 

 

 

 

The pub looms large and intimidating above him and Aaron almost doesn’t want to go in. He knows what’s waiting for him in there; his mum, Liv, everything he doesn’t want to face in the wake of what he knows.

His phone vibrates in his hand, but it’s not Robert; he’s been trying to reach him all morning but he’s being ignored. It’s not a surprise but it does hurt. He wants them to fix what’s wrong between them, not let it fester and grow into something insurmountable.

When he pushes open the door, he can hear voices from the back room. Liv’s standing in the kitchen, an unfamiliar woman sat at the table, Liv’s school books spread out around her.

“-don’t see why Robert can’t just do it,” Liv’s saying, when Aaron pauses in the hallway. “He’s been doing it up till now.”

“He’s busy,” his mum says, cradling a cup of tea in her hands. She’s standing with her back to him so he can’t see her face, but he knows she’s tense.

“Besides,” Aaron says, sliding in through the open door. “You can’t expect him to help with everything.”

“Aaron!” Liv says, immediately grinning. It feels good to be out, to be able to see her, and he knows she feels the same. He can see it in every smile, feel it in every hug. She approaches him, wraps her arms around his middle. “You weren’t home last night and I was worried.”

“Yeah sorry,” Aaron says, looks back at his mum and can see she has questions. He looks back at the table, to the woman politely ignoring their moment. “You must be Liv’s tutor.”

The woman nods, smiles warmly. “I’m Amy. I was hired by Robert – your, husband?”

It’s tentative, inquiring, and Aaron can feel his mum’s stare on the back of his head.

Aaron nods. “Yeah. He says you were highly recommended. "

There’s a faint blush on Amy’s cheeks, and Aaron tugs Liv away from him.

“Right,” he says, gesturing at the table. “Back to work you. I’ll be in to check on you later so pay attention.”

Liv makes a face but doesn’t protest. Aaron’s struck again by how much she’s grown in such a short time, feels guilty that he wasn’t here to see it. Robert was, though, and that’s something, that’s more than enough.

Aaron turns, sees his mum’s pointed look and sighs. “Come on. I’m assuming the pub’s still closed?”

“’Course,” his mum says. “I don’t have to open yet.”

As they pass through to the pub, Aaron can hear music in the kitchen and the murmur of low voices. He wonders if it’s Marlon and Vic, or if that’s where Robert’s run to. He ignores the part of him that wants to find out and follows his mum out into the main bar. He takes a seat at the counter, tries to find the right words.

“I’m sorry, love,” his mum says, sounding sincere. “I wanted you to know.”

Aaron shrugs, tries not to let it bother him. He was hurt, back then, but so much has happened that he’s almost forgotten about it, the dull ache that comes from knowing she’s never going to stop trying to fix everything wrong in his life, even when he wishes maybe she would. “It’s fine,” he says, resting his hands on the counter. “I want to talk to you about something but I need you not to say anything until I’m done. I need you to just _listen_.”

His mum’s face goes all pinched and reluctant, but she nods, comes to sit next to him. “I’m assuming this is about Robert.”

“Yeah,” Aaron affirms, staring at one of the bar mats near his fingers. He opens his mouth to say something else, something about making sure she knows he’s not looking for an ally or an enemy, just that he needs his _mum,_ but before he can think about he’s spilling everything, from his conversation with Robert the night before to the look on Rebecca’s face like she had no idea what she’d done. He can’t stop, words tumbling over themselves to get out and it’s like every emotion he’s kept at bay, every moment he’s wanted to strangle someone, to protect Robert, spills out of him.

His mum listens, he can’t help watching her sometimes, and her eyes are wet. She looks stunned, sick, and Aaron wonders what she’s thinking about, what she’s going to say.

When he’s finished, when his throat feels thick with emotion, and his eyes are burning with unshed tears, he stares down at his hands.

“How much had he had to drink?” His mum asks gently.

“A bottle of whisky.” Aaron rubs at his eyes with his hands, then rests them on his thighs. He needs something to do with them, feels itchy in his own skin. “He didn’t remember anything in the morning, Mum.”

“He told me he had sex with her, love.” When Aaron looks, his mum’s wearing a look of sympathy. “How would he know unless he remembered?”

“They were both naked,” Aaron tells her, unable to keep the bite from his tone. “Mum, don’t you _get it_?”

His mum’s expression doesn’t change, but he can see her swallow, can see the reluctance written all over her. “I believe you, love, I’m not sure I believe him.”

“Why?” Aaron says, clenching his hands into fists. “Because you’ve been waiting for him to screw up?”

He knows he’s hit his mark when his mum looks guilty, eyes darting to the floor and then back.

“I’m just trying to protect you, Aaron.”

“I don’t _need_ you to,” Aaron presses. “Do you understand how much time you’d have saved if he’d told me in prison? How much quicker I might have gotten through to him? Mum, he doesn’t remember what happened to him. He told me drunk and he told me sober.”

His mum doesn’t say anything for a long time, and then sighs, presses her hands to her face.

“What did you say to him?” Aaron asks, because he knows her.

“I told him that he’d lose you and Liv, that I didn’t want him anywhere near ya.”

Aaron’s anger bursts into something hot and angry in his chest. “ _Why?”_

“Because he hurt ya!” His mum snaps, looking every bit the protective mum he knows her to be. He loves it, loves _her_ , most of the time, but he doesn’t need her for this, not to hurt Robert when he was already so frayed and broken.

“Whatever he did,” Aaron tells her, quietly, rage silent under the surface, “is between me and him. Mum, you might have made it _worse_.”

“Why? Because I told him how-“

“No,” Aaron interrupts, almost begging. He needs her to know. “Mum, Rebecca had sex with him when he was too drunk to say yes. He may as well have been passed out. Robert won’t think of it like that, he’ll see it as cheating regardless.”

From the look on his mum’s face, he knows that’s what she’s been thinking of it as. Something clenches painfully in Aaron’s chest.

“If this happened to Liv,” Aaron says, “Or Debbie or Belle, what would you say?” When his mum doesn’t reply right away, he says, “Or with me?”

His mum’s eyes widen momentarily, and she presses a hand to her mouth, looks sick. She knows what he’s been through, knows that men are just as much victims as women. “Aaron.”

“Mum.” Aaron hears his voice break, doesn’t know how he’s going to get through this if he doesn’t have her with him. “I don’t know what to do.”

Thankfully, like he hoped she would, his mum leans in, wraps her arms around him. “It’s alright, love. We’ll manage. I promise ya.”

Aaron doesn’t know how, but he buries his face in his mum’s shoulder, hopes they can do _something_. He needs to find Robert, he needs to make him see what happened, needs to make him deal with it, but it feels so much bigger than Aaron can manage right now. “What if he won’t accept it?”

His mum’s arms tighten around him and he can hear her breath hitch. “We’ll sort it, love. Between us, we’ll sort it.”

It sounds like a hollow promise, but Aaron latches hold of it anyway.

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron’s not there when it happens;

He hears about it after, but he knows the important parts.

Ross was in the pub with Rebecca.

Ross told everyone Rebecca slept with Robert.

Robert left and nobody’s seen him since.

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron finds him at the bridge.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that they both gravitate there, but they do. Robert’s sat around one of the wooden bars, his leg dangling over the edge. Aaron’s heart skips, but he can’t see any alcohol around him. He hopes that for once, Robert isn’t drunk.

“I thought I’d actually manage to keep it quiet,” Robert says, when Aaron approaches. “I thought maybe I could contain it.”

Aaron stands beside him, waits for Robert to keep talking. He wonders if he was ever part of that containment, and realises he doesn’t want to know.

“This is just going to make it _worse_.”

“Make what worse?” Aaron asks. It’s a test; whether Robert admits to what’s happened, or if he’ll go with cheating.

Robert doesn’t answer for a moment, his fingers dancing along the wooden fencepost. “I thought I was past watching everyone look at me and have them be vindicated. I can’t be faithful can I? And now they all know it.”

“Robert,” Aaron starts.

“I thought maybe I could be better for once?” Robert looks up, his hair pushed back against his forehead from where he’s been leaning on the bar, and his eyes red. “Now everyone’s going to know I don’t deserve you.”

He’s angry; Aaron can see it, but he doesn’t have any direction to take it in.

“Is it always going to be like this?” Robert asks, dropping his head back against the wood.

Aaron’s heart clenches. He knows what it feels like, he knows _exactly_ what it feels like. “Like what?”

Robert tips his head back, looks up and frowns. “I’m sorry,” he says, because even now Robert still knows him best. “I know you know how this feels, I don’t know why I said that. I just, I wish, I don’t know how I’m supposed to handle this.”

Sliding down next to him, Aaron slips his legs through the bottom bar of the fence. He leans over, rests as much of his weight against Robert as he can. Robert doesn’t pull away, which is a step up from that morning. “It’s alright, Rob. There’s no right way to react to this.”

“I feel like I’m not actually reacting,” Robert admits, and it’s the first time he’s said anything like it since that morning. “I feel like I’m just waiting.”

“For what?” Aaron asks, even though he knows what Robert’s going to say.

“For this to not be real. Maybe I’ll wake up and you’ve left me. Or you’re still in prison.” Robert’s voice breaks and he rubs at his face angrily. “Or,” he says, slowly, staring off into the distance. “Maybe I’m still in that bed.”

“Robert,” Aaron says, his own voice shaky as he leans over.

“Don’t,” Robert says, leaning away. “Please, I can’t-“

“It’s alright,” Aaron says, though it hurts. “Robert, it’s _alright_.”

“Stop saying that,” Robert snaps. He looks angry, but it’s still not directed at Aaron. He tugs himself out from under the fence and Aaron hurries to follow. As he stands, Robert’s staring at him, eyes wide and the angers slipped, replaced with fear. “I need to go.”

“Tell me where you’re going,” Aaron pleads, needs to know because he can’t take not knowing where Robert is, not now.

Robert looks like he’s going to refuse, but he must see something in Aaron’s face. He relents, his shoulders slumping. “I’ll be in the graveyard.”

Aaron nods, doesn’t trust himself to speak. Robert hesitates only a fraction before he spins on his heel and leaves, every line of his body screaming out for help. Aaron’s trying, he wants to, even as he’s fighting his own feelings of anger and betrayal.

Everything’s twisting into a horrible mass inside of his chest and Aaron doesn’t know how to begin dealing with it.

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron’s in the back room of the pub, wondering how soon is too soon to call Robert, when there’s a knock on the door frame. Paddy’s standing in the doorway, and Aaron sighs, knows he’s not getting out of this without talking.

“Are you okay?”

It’s a stupid question, but Aaron knows Paddy realises it at the same time he does. He ducks his head rests his hands on his hips.

“I knew this would happen,” Paddy says, sounding vindicated. There’s an apology in his expression. “I told him he’d mess up and I was right.”

It’s not what Aaron needs right now, and he’s tired of both his mum and Paddy trying to convince him how wrong Robert is for him.

“Paddy, stop,” Aaron snaps. He needs to explain, knows it, but it feels like Robert’s secret to tell and he’s already spilled it to one too many people.

“I’m just looking out for you, Aaron.” Paddy gives him the all too familiar look, the one Aaron’s come to appreciate because it means Paddy will help, that he’ll listen.

“It’s not me that needs looking out for,” Aaron admits, slowly, turning away from Paddy. He hasn’t spoken to Robert since that morning, he doesn’t know what Robert’s even thinking, and now everyone in the village will know he slept with Rebecca by the end of the day. “It’s Robert.”

When he turns back, Paddy looks confused but not unwilling to listen. Aaron perches on one of the chairs, stares down at his hands. He needs his _dad_.

“Robert was drunk,” he starts, and tells Paddy everything he did his mum, tells Paddy that Robert was drunk, that he had no way of knowing what was happening him.

“Yeah,” Paddy says, frowning. “But why didn’t he push her off or stop her?”

Aaron doesn’t say anything, _can’t_ , because his heart hurts for Robert. Is this what he’s going to get all of the time? That he should have pushed her off, that he should have been able to prevent it? Surviving sexual assault doesn’t prepare you for helping anyone else through something like this, Aaron thinks, tugging the sleeves of his shirt over his hands.

Paddy, who seems to know he’s done something wrong, comes over to the sofa and sits down, giving Aaron a searching look. “I want to hate him,” Paddy tells him softly. He holds up a hand when Aaron opens his mouth. “I was prepared for him to abandon you as soon you were sent down, but he didn’t. He was so worried about you, and how you’d cope inside. . He was – he did everything for you and I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I know he’s done bad things,” Aaron says. “Things that hurt me more than I thought they ever could.” He thinks of Katie, of the lodge, of _Rebecca_. “But I love him, Paddy, and I know he loves me.”

“I know,” Paddy agrees, looking reluctant. “I don’t like him, but I get it.”

Aaron hardly dares hope. He curls his fingers into his sleeves. “He won’t listen to me.”

“He is stubborn,” Paddy says, giving Aaron a small, tentative smile. “I’ll be here for you no matter what. If you need me. If Robert does.”

It’s an admission that comes with a reluctant expression, but the sentiment behind it is so welcome it hurts. Paddy wasn’t there for Aaron when he needed him, and maybe part of him is expecting not to have it happen, to have Paddy abandon him again, but he needs to believe it. For himself and for Robert.

More than anything, Aaron needs Robert to be okay.

Aaron jerks forward off the chair and Paddy rises to meet him, hugs him tight. It’s like his mum, welcome and needed, and Aaron lets himself take it, knows that his usual source of comfort isn’t going to be able to give it for a while.

That hurts more than he’s expecting it to.

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron’s never been more grateful for Liv.

Now that he’s back, he can see how much she’s grown in herself, and in how she handles herself with other people in the village. The first time he hears about the incident with Gabby, Aaron wants to strangle the two boys with his bare hands.

“You don’t need to,” Liv tells him, correctly reading his angry silence. “Robert scared one of ‘em and I don’t think the other’s coming back with what Laurel did to ‘im.”

Aaron snorts, can well imagine. He worries though, looks at Liv and knows she’s growing up, it’s been coming for a long time, but that doesn’t mean it’s easier to handle, or to deal with.

“Aaron,” Liv says, picking at the cushion on her lap. “There’s something going on with Rob isn’t there?”

It’s not a subject he wants to broach with Liv, not ever if he can help it, and shakes his head. “He’s fine.”

Liv lets outs a frustrated sigh and tosses the cushion next to her on the sofa, leaning forward. “You don’t have to lie to me. I’m not an idiot. Before you came back Chas and Robert were fighting and now you’re being weird. I know something happened in the pub yesterday but nobody’s telling me what it is.”

Living in the village isn’t easy, and Aaron knows that if he doesn’t tell her that she’ll find out from someone else, someone she doesn’t deserve to hear it from.  

Aaron wants Robert to tell her, wants him to have to do this and break her heart, but that feels too vindictive. He’s trying, trying to be better at this, but sometimes he just can’t help it.

“Rob did something,” Aaron says, rubbing at his arm. His scar doesn’t itch anymore, but sometimes it’s a helpful reminder of when Robert did things _right_. A little unfair considering he’s more then done things right, but Aaron’s still angry enough for it to hurt. “With Rebecca.”

Liv’s face falls. Aaron hates it, hates hurting her, but she sighs, picks at her trousers. “How far?”

“Liv-“

“Aaron,” Liv says, her eyes bright. She looks concerned, but not angry. He’s startled for a second, isn’t expecting this at all. “He had sex with her right?”

Aaron nods, hates the rush of nausea and betrayal he gets with it. He hopes it won’t keep happening. He wants to be able to trust Robert again, even if him being betrayed feels wrong under the circumstances.

“He was messed up, you know,” Liv sounds. She’s ducked her head so he can’t see her face, and she’s clutching at the cushion again. “He tried to hide it so I wouldn’t see. Slept down here when he thought I didn’t notice and kept telling me everything was okay even when it wasn’t. He didn’t get mad at me, not really.”

“I know how great he was, Liv, but this is-“

“Different?” Liv looks up then, eyes shining. “Aaron, he was all I had while you were in prison and he was brilliant. He looked after me but he hated not having you around.”

“I know,” Aaron says, because he does. He knows that. “Liv, I’m allowed to be angry with him.”

“I know,” Liv says, sighing gently. “I just don’t know why he did it.”

Aaron shifts, rubs a hand over his face. “He came to see me in prison. Told me he knew about me doing drugs.”

“I’m sorry.” Liv hugs the cushion tighter and Aaron moves to the sofa, lets her curl up against him. This is something else he missed, something else he’s glad he gets now, plans to relish it as much as possible. Liv turns her face into his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to tell him.”

“It’s alright, Liv,” Aaron tells her, not blaming her in the slightest. “He told me about you and I – I said some things that upset him.”

“What things?” Liv asks.

“Doesn’t matter.” It’s not something Aaron wants to get into with Liv, not now. He has a hard enough time getting Robert to open to him now without giving him any reason to clam up further. “Just things that upset him and made him get drunk.”

Liv shifts against him, but Aaron can’t see her face. He squeezes her gently and waits for her to talk. “Why’d he go to Rebecca?”

“He text her because she’s his friend,” Aaron says, hating every word. It feels like a lie, especially now, and he’s just sorry Robert’s seeing it now after _this_. He doesn’t say anything else about it, doesn’t want Liv to know the rest, but he knows the village will be rife with gossip after this. “He doesn’t remember anything else.”

Liv’s always been smart and she pulls away from Aaron. She just looks at him, doesn’t need to say anything else. Her expression reminds him of his own, all anger and uncertainty, like she has so much of it and doesn’t know what to do with it. “She told me I could go to her if I needed her.”

Aaron doesn’t know what to say to that, just waits her out.

“You’ll be there for him, won’t ya?”

“’Course I will,” Aaron says, and he’s never meant anything more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Every time Aaron steps foot in the bedroom at the Mill, he can’t bring himself to look at the bed. He hates the idea of Robert having sex with anyone not him in this room, even worse when it’s Rebecca. When he takes the thought further, when he thinks of a Robert who was off his face drunk, a Robert who woke up and didn’t remember a thing, he wishes he could burn the entire place to the ground.

Instead, he’s standing in the doorway, looking at Robert, and wondering what he’s thinking. Robert’s looking at the floor, something he’s been doing a lot lately. Aaron gets it, knows why he can’t look at anyone, the murmurs and whispers going around the village, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

“I don’t want it,” Robert says, quietly. “I can’t – can we get a different one?”

“’Course,” Aaron says, his voice catching on the word. “Not like I wanted this one anyway.”

Robert’s eyes cloud over and Aaron knows what he’s going to say even before, “I’m sorry,” falls from his lips.

Aaron signs, knows this is going to take time and effort from them both. “I’m angry,” he tells Robert, and not for the first time. He takes a step forward, another, and reaches over to touch Robert’s face. “I’m angry you thought that your only option was to get drunk and trash the Mill.”

Robert looks hurt, ashamed, but also as though he’s expecting it.

“That’s something we’re going to work on,” Aaron tells him. “Together and separately.”

Something dark and fearful flashes through Robert’s eyes. Then, slowly, defeat. “I’ve been waiting.”

“For what?” Aaron asks, confused.

“You to break up with me.”

“Robert, no,” Aaron says, hurriedly, tugging Robert closer to him, forcing his chin up. “I’m angry, yes, but I’m not breaking up with you. Messed up, forever, remember?”

“I’m definitely that,” Robert says, like he’s not getting it.

“Listen to me,” Aaron says, bringing Robert’s head down to his shoulder. Robert fights him, then something in him gives, and he collapses, Aaron having to adjust his feet to take the weight. He presses a kiss to Robert’s head. “You’re my husband and yes, you messed up, then something happened to you that never should have.”

Robert’s breath hitches, his fingers tight around Aaron’s sleeve.

“I get my counselling,” Aaron tells him, slowly. Then, knowing Robert’s not going to like this next bit, “I think you should too.”

“No,” Robert says immediately, pushing away from Aaron. “I’m fine.”

Aaron grits his teeth against the first words that want to fly out and he sighs, gestures at the bedroom. “The fact that you want to get rid of this bed, Robert, is proof that that’s a lie. You told me you understood.

“I do,” Robert assures him, softening just a bit. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t encourage it, that I didn’t ask for it to happen. I don’t need help, Aaron, I don’t.”

“Why did you text her?” Aaron asks, not really sure he wants to know the answer, but needing something to make Robert open up, to make him see that there are ways around this. He knows it might not make everything better. Even now, with a counselling session under his belt, and knowledge they’ll continue, he can’t imagine a day he doesn’t have paranoia as a constant companion. He also knows that he and Robert can’t continue like this, that something has to give. “Why contact her when you know she wanted you? You _knew_ she would come. What did you want?”

Robert has the decency to stare down at his feet and consider the question instead of just being flippant. When he speaks, he’s frowning. “I wanted – I don’t know what I wanted, or why I do it. She wanted me and I wanted that. I wanted to not hurt, and I wanted to forget.”

 _And he was drunk_. Aaron runs a hand over his face as Robert trails off. It’s not an answer, not really, and he’s already said _I wanted you to hurt_ but there’s so much about Robert that Aaron still hasn’t seen. He _knows_ , but he hasn’t seen. Self-worth, Aaron’s already seen, is considerably non-existent for someone who acts like they have a ton of it. “Robert-“

“I don’t know why I did it,” Robert admits. Aaron opens his mouth to say something but Robert keeps talking, still scowling down at his shoes like they hold all the answers. “I was just hurting so much, and I’m not blaming you, I’m not saying it’s your fault, I just –“ Robert pauses again, scrubs a hand over his face. “If I hurt, I hurt other people. I don’t know why.”

Aaron knows that. It’s something he’s starting to realise is one of Robert’s coping mechanisms. Like Aaron lashes out with his fists. Or self-harms. “You need to sort that, Rob.”

“I know,” Robert says, softly. He finally, _finally_ , looks up and meets Aaron’s eyes. “I am sorry,” he says, heartfelt and broken. “I love you more than anything and I don’t know why I chose that, chose _her_. You told me we were of no use.”

“I didn’t mean you were _useless_ ,” Aaron presses, even though he knows that Robert heard that anyway, that his deepest fear is to be useless, is to lose everything he’s crafted for himself. “I’m sorry that’s what you heard.”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Robert says, looking stricken. “Aaron, none of this is your fault.”

“If you hold blame,” Aaron says, reaching forward and touching his hand to Robert’s face. “I get to hold some too. If I hadn’t told you that, would you have come here and trashed the place?”

Robert shrugs, looks like he wants to answer but doesn’t know how. “No. Probably not. I don’t know though, do I? Because it’s happened and I did it and I have to live with it.”

“No,” Aaron says gently. “We live with it.”

Nodding, Robert gives him a small smile, but it’s weak and doesn’t meet his eyes at all. Aaron’s heart clenches painfully. They still have a way to go, they always will perhaps, but Aaron’s gonna be here every step of the way.

“I’m sorry,” Robert says, leaning forward and pressing their foreheads together. “I can never say it enough.”

“I know,” Aaron tells him. He wants to kiss Robert, wants it more than anything, but Robert separates them, gives Aaron another weak smile. “I’m sorry too.”

Robert looks like he’s going to say something, but Aaron presses a finger to his lips.

“I’m _sorry_ ,” he says, strong. Then, brushes a hand through Robert’s hair. “I love you, Rob.”

“I love you too,” Robert says, after a long pause.

Aaron feels adrift, doesn’t know how to handle this, but he desperately wishes he did.

Robert closes his eyes, lets out a slow breath, but he doesn’t move away from Aaron, so Aaron counts it as a win.

 

 

 

 

 

Vic’s in the kitchen when Aaron gets back.

Leaving Rob in Adam’s capable hands, Aaron assured Robert he’d be back as soon as he checked in on Liv and made sure she was actally where she was supposed to. He was trying to redistribute everything that had been left to Robert while Aaron was gone, and he’s annoyed enough with having to do that when his family should have stepped up, that he’s hoping to have the pub empty when he gets there.

Instead, Vic’s sitting at the table, apprehensive. Aaron knows something happened between her and Robert, and that Robert’s not spoken about it since. It hurts, knowing how close they’ve become lately, and Robert needs everyone he can get at the moment.

“Alright?” Aaron asks, tossing his keys on the cabinet by the door.

Vic shrugs, gives him an expression that’s Rob all over. “He won’t talk to me.”

Aaron’s not sure he’s ready to have this conversation when Robert’s barely talking to _him_ , but he approaches the table anyway, leans against one of the chairs. “He’s not talking to me either.”

“He is,” Vic presses, looking sad. “Aaron, I don’t know what to say to him.”

“You don’t say anything,” Aaron tells her, tugging the chair out from under the table and sitting down. “Vic, you just act the way you always do. The same way mum is and Charity. He’s not _different_.”

“It is,” Vic tells him, voice breaking. “This is _Rob_. I look at him and I wonder how I never saw it. I could have gone instead.”

Aaron frowns. “What?” Robert hadn’t said anything about it.

Vic rubs at her eyes, picks at her nails gently, distracted. “Adam came into the pub after, told me Robert was at the Mill drinking and irritated. I was going to go and see him but Faith and Adam told me not to. If I had, I could have – and he wouldn’t be-“

“Vic,” Aaron says, hurriedly, pushing everything else aside for now. He reaches for her hand, takes it. “This isn’t your fault.”

“I knew he was hurting,” Vic says, tears on her face. “I knew he was struggling without you and I told him to tell you but he didn’t. I didn’t know it would do this. He’s always been so – he’s just Robert.”

Aaron understood. Perhaps it’s the people who seem the strongest that are breaking inside. Robert walks around like nothing can phase him, but Aaron knows better. He’s seen the shattered parts of Robert, the parts he rarely acknowledges, let alone shows people.

Vic rubs at her face again, gives Aaron a sad smile. “Is he coping?”

“No,” Aaron says immediately, unwilling to lie. “I told him he should try counselling.”

Vic lets out a soft, watery laugh. “I can imagine that didn’t go down well.”

Aaron sighs, feels exhaustion, worry and anger gnaw away at him. “I worry that I’m spending so much time fighting this, on trying to help, but I’m not doing much good.”

“You are,” Vic tells him, strong and sincere. “Aaron, he was a mess while you were in prison. You have no idea how many times I walked in here to see him staring into space. Since you’ve been back – it’s been weird, and Robert’s been distracted and sad, but when he’s around you it’s like he’s back again, like he’s okay.”

“’Cept he’s not,” Aaron says, resting his head in his hands. “I can’t help him if he won’t help himself.”

The silence at that is almost deafening.

 

 

 

 

 

The Mill’s done up enough that they can have dinner there at least. It’s nice to be out from under the watchful gaze of his mother, and he knows Robert appreciates having a meal that is surrounded by the knowledge of what he did, or at least the aftermath of it.

Liv’s got her phone on the table, scrolling through her Facebook or something. She’s shovelling in food one-handed and Aaron knows he should chastise her but he’s been more inclined to let her get away with things lately.

Robert’s kept up a steady stream of talk, gesturing over his head about the bedrooms and the kitchen and the rest of the house, looking enthusiastic about something for the first time in days. Aaron’s watching him, mouth quirking up when Robert makes a comment about the amount of time Adam had spent not actually working.

“Oi,” Aaron says, gentling the word with a grin. “That’s my best mate you’re talking about.”

“Your best mate,” Robert says, gesturing with his fork, “isn’t always the hardest worker.”

“Don’t I know it,” Aaron mutters, though he knows he can’t really comment.

Robert snorts, turning back to his dinner. To look at him you wouldn’t think there was anything wrong, and maybe that’s because Robert almost believes there’s nothing wrong. Aaron’s trying, but he’s no closer to getting through to Robert than he was before.

Liv looks up from her phone and says, “Laurel took Gabby to a clinic today.”

Aaron freezes, eyes narrowing at Liv. “Liv-"

“’Cause of what she did.” Liv looks at Robert like he’ll understand. Aaron can see that Robert does, that he’s staring at her, fork halfway to his mouth. Liv doesn’t let that deter her. “She was telling Gabby about that time she was drunk.”

Robert drops his fork back to his plate, gripping the edge of the table.

“Liv, stop it,” Aaron warns.

“I’m just saying,” Liv says, sliding her phone off the table and into her pocket. “Someone at the clinic told Laurel when she was there that sleeping with someone without consent is illegal.”

Robert’s face pales, his hand trembling.

“Robert,” Aaron starts, leaning across the table. “Robert look at me.”

Robert’s shaking, his eyes still on Liv, and even she’s looking at him worriedly.

“Robert?” She flicks her eyes to Aaron, but Aaron ignores her.

“Robert,” Aaron says again, sliding out of his chair and rounding the table. Robert’s taking in deep lungfuls of air, whole body trembling when Aaron touches it, when he slides his hands up to Robert’s face. “I need you to look at me okay?”

Robert’s breath is harsh and ragged but his eyes meet Aaron’s. He clutches at Aaron’s arms.

“That’s it, come on.” Aaron breathes in and out slowly, waits for Robert to match his rhythm before doing it again, then again, until Robert’s breathing is calmer, under control.

“Sorry,” Robert mutters, and to Aaron’s surprise, drops his head forward to Aaron’s stomach. Aaron rests a hand on the top of his head, brushes the other through Robert’s hair.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Aaron tells him gently, memories of his own panic attacks vivid in his memory. “Robert, you know-“

“I know,” Robert says, just as gently. “I know, I just don’t want to think about it right now, okay?”

Aaron nods, looks over at Liv, who’s still staring at them wide-eyed. “He’s alright, Liv, it’s fine. 

“It’s not though,” she says, looking at Robert and frowning, playing with the edge of her phone. “Is it?”

 

 

 

 

 

Later, while Aaron and Robert are watching TV, not as much distance between them as there used to be, Liv slinks into the room, hovers at the end of the sofa near Robert.

“I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “I thought I was helping.”

Robert gives her a smile, tugs her down, and to Aaron’s surprise, Liv goes. She settles in next to him, leaning against his side. “It’s alright.”

“I figured if you thought of it like I did, you wouldn’t hate yourself.”

Sometimes, Aaron thinks, staring at his sister, she’s amazingly perceptive.

“I don’t hate myself,” Robert says. He doesn’t sound believable, and the smile on his face mirrors his tone.

Liv shrugs, like it doesn’t matter to her, but Aaron can see that it does. So does Robert, if the way he tightens his grip on her is any indication.

“Liv,” he starts. “I don’t hate myself. I cheated.”

“Maybe,” Liv says, though she looks sceptical. Aaron’s proud of her for not drawing it out though. “Or maybe it’s like this. If I was drunk and some guy slept with me, what would you do?”

Robert opens his mouth instantly, goes to reply and then stops. Aaron watches his face, knows when he realises what Liv’s trying to do. His arm jerks, like he’s going to pull away, but he doesn’t. He settles for staring down at his feet.

“Robert?” Aaron says, and waits for Robert to meet his eyes. “She’s not wrong.”

It takes a long time, but eventually nods, his expression wretched. Aaron moves, sit on the arm of the sofa. Robert leans against him, gentle and uncertain, but he does it.

“We’ll deal with this, alright?” Aaron tells him, sees Liv nod. “Together.”

Robert lets out a slow breath, keeps his eyes on the floor, and nods.

 

 

 

 

 

The pub is crowded the next night, but that doesn’t stop Robert, Liv and Aaron commandeering a table in the corner for dinner.

Aaron looks up as his mum approaches, gesturing at the menus on the table. “We haven’t decided yet.”

“It’s the dinner rush, love,” his mum whines, jerking her head as yet more customers come in the door.

“Aren’t we classed as premium guests?” Robert throws in, sounding a lot more like himself. The night before had been good for him. They spent the night talking after Liv went to bed, not about anything that mattered, but Robert relaxed a little more. Aaron’s not stupid enough to believe everything’s fine, but it helped. “We should get premium service.”

Aaron holds his breath, hopes his mum trusts him enough to know when he’s made his choice. He can see Robert tense, the way his eyes dart down and then back up. Liv’s unconcerned, peering at her menu.

“You’re premium something,” Aaron’s mum says, giving Robert a roll of her eyes and a smile to show that she doesn’t mean it. Robert relaxes, a small relieved smile on his face.

Aaron folds his menu, giving Liv a pointed look. “Has this premium guest picked her meal?”

Liv grins, sucks her straw between her teeth. “Whatever Marlon doesn’t feel like cooking.”

Robert laughs, and Aaron can’t help but do the same. “Same.”

When his mum looks over, Aaron shrugs. “Better make it three.”

“Hmm,” his mum agrees, but her eyes are soft, and before she leaves, she rests a hand on Robert’s shoulder and squeezes gently.

Robert looks at Aaron, surprised, but Aaron shrugs, makes sure Liv’s preoccupied with her phone before running his foot along the back of Robert’s shin.

“She’s coming around, all right?”

Robert nods, starting to smile, though it drops off as he stares over Aaron’s shoulder. His face pales, and he drops his eyes back to the table, fingers clenching into fists against the top of the table.

“Rob?” Aaron asks, turning.

Rebecca’s standing in the pub doorway talking to Chrissie, Lawrence behind them. There’s no sign of Ronnie. Aaron feels his hackles rise, wants to tell them to get the hell out.

“Don’t,” Robert says, and when Aaron looks back over his shoulder, Robert’s looking right at him.

Liv’s stopped messing around on her phone, eyes darting from one of them to the other. “We can leave.”

“Robert.”

Rebecca catches sight of them, starts to thread her way through the tables.

Robert freezes, and Aaron shifts out of his booth, doesn’t know what he’s going to do, only that he wants to protect Robert from this, whatever it is. 

Before Rebecca can reach their table, Aaron stands between her and Robert, raising his eyebrows.

“I wanted to apologise,” Rebecca says. She looks awful, eyes heavy with dark smudges, and red. “Aaron, please.”

“No,” Aaron says, as gently as he can. He hates her just that little bit, wants to hurt her, but he gets that she’s not having an easy time of it.

Behind Rebecca, Chrissie rolls her eyes, looking frustrated. “So she was telling the truth, then? You’re claiming Robert had no idea what he was doing?”

Aaron doesn’t have to look at him to know what expression Robert’s wearing on his face. Aaron doesn’t like Chrissie, he’s made no secret of that, but right now he wants to smack her. “He was _drunk_.”

“He was drunk plenty of times with me,” Chrissie says, peering around Aaron.

Aaron shifts, catches her attention. “That’s different and you know it. You were _married_.”

“Aaron,” Robert says, sounding faint.

Aaron’s _angry_ , and he wants to lash out at both of them, but something in Robert’s voice makes him turn. Robert’s standing next to the booth, Liv next to him, and there’s an expression on Aaron’s face that he knows too well.

“Don’t,” Robert says, as he looks around the rest of the pub. “It’s alright.”

It’s not, not even close, but Aaron’s not about to say anything to them that Robert doesn’t want him to. Instead, he turns back to Rebecca, bites down on what he actually wants to say. “Go, alright? He doesn’t wanna talk to ya!”

“She has a right to be here,” Lawrence puts in, and Aaron’s hands clench into fists. He’s torn; wants to lash out, but Robert’s his priority right now.

“Actually,” Aaron’s mum puts in from the bar. “She doesn’t. Out, the lot of ‘ya, now!”

Lawrence starts to object, Rebecca still staring over Aaron’s shoulder, and Aaron uses it to step away. He grabs Robert’s arm, tugs him towards the back room.

“Come on,” he says gently. “We don’t have to be out here. I’ll get mum to bring the food out the back.”

Robert says nothing as he follows, Liv trailing behind them. As soon as they get out back, Robert hovers near the kitchen, like he’s not entirely sure what to do with himself. Liv takes a seat on the sofa, but she’s perched on the edge.

Aaron leans against the table, rests his hands on his hips. “It’s not always gonna be like that.”

“Like what?” Robert snaps. “That I can’t stand to be in the same room as her? She lives in the _village_ , Aaron!”

“I know that,” Aaron tells him, trying to keep his voice even. “Robert, we can’t kick her out of the village! You could – there are things you could do.”

Robert understands him instantly, shakes his head and gestures behind him, towards the pub. “No! It’s bad enough that everyone out there has to know. I don’t want this going any further.”

Aaron didn’t want to do it anymore than Robert does, and if Cain hadn’t forced his hand, he wouldn’t have done it period. He gets it and he can’t argue, but Robert’s fraying apart and Aaron can’t stand it.

 

 

 

 

 

The village was already talking, but now there’s talk everywhere.

“He acted like he wanted it,” Aaron hears in the café.

“A guy can just shove her off,” in the pub, followed quickly by a, “he was _drunk_. He can’t know what he’s getting into at all. Don’t be a moron.”

“Maybe he’s saying it so that he doesn’t look a cheat,” in the street, and Aaron has to bite down on saying something. He walks away, tries desperately not to take it personally. If he’s acting like this, it must be so much worse for Robert.

Robert never says anything, but he can see it, he _knows_. Robert’s looking pale, struggling under the weight of everything, and Aaron doesn’t know how to help him.

Adam corners him at the Scrapyard, his mouth an unhappy line. “Look, mate, I feel awful.”

Aaron knew this was coming, knows even if Vic is trying to rebuild what she has with Robert and take everything on his terms, that Adam wouldn’t be able to keep quiet. “S’alright,” Aaron tells him, meaning it. “You weren’t to know.”

“But I told Vic not to go,” Adam points out, looking awful. “If she had maybe he never would have gotten that drunk. Maybe he wouldn’t have-“

“So what side are you on?” Aaron asks when Adam trails off, desperate to know if his best friend understands.

“Mate,” he says. “Vanessa and I were both drunk, what we had was different. But if she’d been drunk and I hadn’t? I wouldn’t be walking around in the right, you know?”

It’s a roundabout, so very _Adam_ , way of saying what Aaron’s hoping he would.

Aaron nods, shifts a piece of sheet metal out of the way. “He’s not exactly handling it well.”

“It’s Robert, innit?” Adam says. “He never was. But if him sticking by you proves anything? It’s that between the two of ya, you’ll make it work.”

It shouldn’t be enough, not really, but Aaron thinks it might carry them through a lot of what’s to come.

 

 

 

 

“I can’t sleep in there,” Robert says, standing in the doorway to their bedroom at the pub. Aaron knows instantly he’s not talking about this bedroom, but their one at the Mill.

The Mill’s almost complete, but Aaron hasn’t had the time to look it over properly. So much of what’s happened since he left prison has been overwhelming and taken precedence over reacclimatising and trying to feel like he fit somewhere again.

Robert’s wearing a loose t-shirt and a pair of jeans that Aaron didn’t know he owned. They’re a size too big, and Aaron doesn’t know if it’s on purpose, or if he’s lost weight because of everything that’s been happening. The latter, from how pale and tired Robert’s looking lately. “I can’t do it.”

Aaron’s rooting through their wardrobes, sorting through the clothes. He’s trying to be proactive, wants them both to get back into this life they’re crafting, of giving Robert a distraction, giving _himself_ a distraction. He’s trying to be comfortable in a village where he knows Rebecca’s walking around, but he can’t solve that right now. “Alright,” he says, peering around the door. “That’s okay.”

Robert looks frustrated, fingers clenching into fists, but he doesn’t say anything.

Rooting through the back of the wardrobe, Aaron pulls out Robert’s leather jacket and frowns. “What’s this doing in here? Though this was downstairs by the door.”

Robert’s eyes widen as he stares at the jacket.

“Robert?”

Robert takes the jacket from Aaron, staring down at the jacket like it’s physically hurt him. There’s a sick look on his face and Aaron gets it. Robert was obviously wearing that jacket the day he came to see Aaron.

“Robert-“

Hands shaking, Robert makes as if to put the jacket on and then pauses. “I can put it on.”

“Don’t, Robert,” Aaron tries, knowing what it’s like to force yourself into something when you’re not ready.

Taking a step further into the room, Robert stands in front of the mirror, face resolved, but he can’t make himself move, can’t do anything except stare at himself.

“Robert,” Aaron tries again, “Talk to me.”

“I keep thinking I’m okay,” Robert says, still staring at himself. “I can handle it if I keep thinking I cheated. I can what everyone thinks of me, I _can_ , but then I wake up sometimes thinking about it, waking up with _her_ , and it makes me feel sick.”

There’s an uncomfortable feeling settling in Aaron’s stomach and he’s desperate to make it better, to hold Robert as it passes. It never passes, Aaron knows that better than anyone.

“I can’t do this,” Robert says, sliding down the bed, jacket in a heap at his feet. He buries his face in his hands.

Aaron crouches down next to him, not touching, because Robert’s whole demeanour is screaming not to be. “Talk to me, Rob.”

“I thought it was because I cheated on you,” Robert says, gently, slowly. “I didn’t think it was _that_.”

“It has a name,” Aaron says, just as gently. “Assault.”

“But it’s not,” Robert says, so quiet Aaron almost misses it. “It’s not if it’s just-“

“Just what?” This time Aaron rests a hand on Robert’s knee and squeezes gently. “Robert, it’s called assault, I don’t care how aware she was of what she was doing.”

Robert swallows, looks at him slowly. His eyes are wide, a wealth of emotion in them, and Aaron draws him forward, holds him as tight as Robert lets him. Robert sinks into his hold, fingers tight on the back of Aaron’s shoulders. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I know,” Aaron says, kissing the side of his head. He pulls back a little, waits for Robert to look at him before pressing his fingers to Robert’s face, touch his jaw slowly. “I promise ya I’m gonna be here, alright? You and me, we’ll work this out.”

“Maybe not just us,” Robert says, surprising Aaron. He looks reluctant, but certain, and his grip on Aaron’s arms is tight. “I need to see someone.”

“Alright,” Aaron agrees, because it’s what he’s wanted for so long. He thinks if they can get this far, if they can get through _this_ , there’s nothing they can’t face. “I’ll be there, alright?”

“I know,” Robert says, his eyes wet. He leans in, presses his face into Aaron’s neck. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes you do,” Aaron says, strong and unyielding. “I deserve you and you deserve me.”

Robert’s grip loosens and he sighs out slowly, relaxes. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Aaron says, means it with fibre of his body. “I promise ya, Rob, we’ll get through this.”

There’s a long, silent pause. Then, quietly, Robert says, “Thank you.”

Aaron doesn’t need thanks, doesn’t ever need thanks, but his chest feels tight with how much he loves Robert, how proud he is of him. Whatever happens with Rebecca, however low and hard it gets with Robert, Aaron’s not going to be abandon him now. They’ve come too far, Aaron loves him too much to ever leave him behind.

**Author's Note:**

> there are a lot of scenes between robert and other people that never made it into this fic. i may eventually post them, i don't know. however, find me at my [tumblr](http://sapphicsugden.tumblr.com) if you'd like to see if they ever pop up!


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